


signed and sealed

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Author Rushed This, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22035769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Doyoung makes a surprise visit.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 6
Kudos: 199





	signed and sealed

**Author's Note:**

> rushed this really quick before the year ended! please don't read too much into it ;-;

“You’re a lucky one.”

Doyoung looks up from where he’s trying to count change, the silver coins and sizes still confusing to him. Over the register, a boy in a Santa hat is smiling down at him, pearly white teeth and deep cheek dimples.

“This is the last triple chocolate cake we’ve got in the store,” he explains, nodding at Doyoung’s confusion. He tiptoes, peering into Doyoung’s hand, “Need a hand there? I could help you with that if you’d like.”

Doyoung nods mutely. His command of the Japanese language is improving with every YouTube video he watches, but the currency still baffles him; the coins are so terribly similar and Doyoung has never really been great at math anyway.

“And that’s an exact amount,” the boy announces, offering the rest of Doyoung’s coins back to him.

Doyoung takes it with quiet thanks, shoving it into his pocket and thinking to deal with it later. He watches the boy wrap the cake box up with deft fingers, tying a wide blue ribbon neatly, lacing a big bow on the top. He reaches over to slide a card under the bow, a small Santa Clause with a reindeer and the words _Merry Christmas_ in a red-green cursive.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Thank you,” Doyoung says slowly, the words foreign on his tongue. The boy’s eyes light up at his obvious attempt not to butcher the language, but before he can go on to say anything about it, Doyoung is picking the cake up and hurrying out the door, leaving behind a winded _Merry Christmas to you too!_

He takes the quieter streets, behind the shopping districts and larger malls. The main roads have been closed thanks to the merry holidays and there are far too many people on a single sidewalk than Doyoung would care to navigate through, especially while trying not to drop the cake nor lose his luggage.

The hotel comes up on his right. It’s quite lavish, guarded with men in suits and bellmen luggage carts, gold adorned on almost every inch of the brightly lit lobby. The sides are lined with plants of various heights and sizes, professionally handpicked and designed to fit the overall class of audience the hotel is clearly meant for.

Doyoung scrunches his nose.

_Of course._

He would expect nothing less from hotel housing one of the country’s top celebrities at the moment, and he would expect the agency to spare nothing for the biggest earner they currently have in their hold.

“Good evening sir.”

Doyoung is politely approached by a bellboy with a tray of freshly squeezed orange juice, decorated with tiny paper umbrellas on the top. He declines any help and thanks the bellboy anyway, making his way towards the row of lifts behind reception; the keycard to one of the suites on the topmost floor already lodged safely in his back pocket.

“You’re going to give him a heart attack,” Yuta had said, around a good hour after Doyoung’s plane landed in Tokyo. He’d rushed to meet the boy for a quick dinner, forcing his way into Yuta’s packed schedule to retrieve the coveted keycard.

“No way,” Doyoung snorted, taking a sip from his drink, “He never gets surprised by anything I do.”

Yuta raised a brow but said nothing more. He paid for the meal as they left–with Doyoung promising to take Yuta out the next time he visited Seoul–and they’d parted ways there.

Doyoung makes a mental note to remind himself of his promise. The agency wouldn’t be happy to know how lax security is around one of their greatest celebrities–granted, Doyoung did work for them a good five years as a sound technician and Yuta had always been his contact point as a manager-slash-translator whenever they travelled to Japan.

They must know Doyoung still had valuable connections within the industry, having made such many trips during his time there.

He jabs on the button to the topmost floor–the thirty-first–and takes a deep breath as the doors slide shut.

It’s been a rush of a day.

Driving back to Seoul from Guri after attending his family’s annual Christmas celebration, tearing through his apartment to pack a small luggage for this two-night trip, then bolting out of the house again to catch his flight to Tokyo.

Doyoung’s never one to make such rushed plans, but he’d made the bookings on a whim and he simply couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see the boy he’s so desperately missed.

Throughout the celebratory festivities, Doyoung’d felt an emptiness in his heart. Watching Gongmyung and Hyesung running around with their children, overhearing his parents’ bicker with teasing lilts filled with love, staring up at the sky and wondering what the hell was he doing here _alone_.

And maybe it’s selfish of him for wanting to take a flight out so late, for taking up precious time that could be used for rest, knowing how busy the new year will be–with special appearances and talkshows and concerts the triple-threat celeb will have to attend.

Doyoung is selfish and he will admit that tonight.

All he wants is to see–

The lift doors slide open.

He hurries down the hall, cursing inwardly at the sheer size of each suite, every door seemingly further and further from the next. The cake in his hand rattles noisily but Doyoung doesn’t care now, frantically making his way to Room 3101.

He fumbles, wriggling around to get the keycard out of his back pocket. He takes another deep breath, hands near shaking as he taps on the lock and pushes the door open.

“Yuta?”

Doyoung freezes.

The voice is muffled, raspy from disuse.

It makes Doyoung’s heart thrum.

“I know you’re still angry, but I don’t want dinner. I’m not in the mood.”

Doyoung hovers over toeing his shoes off. Did something happen?

“And I really don’t want to see anyone right now so if you could just–”

Doyoung leaves his luggage and cake by the entrance, taking long strides into the room to meet the sight of one Lee Taeyong lying in the middle of a very large King-sized bed, swaddled by too many pillows to count.

As Korea’s current favorite celebrity, Doyoung expected Taeyong to look less–disheveled.

Though, _this_ is the boy that’s got a tight hold on his heart.

Even with just the television dimly illuminating Taeyong’s face, Doyoung doesn’t need a flashlight to map the features he’s already committed to mind; large eyes looking as big as saucers, the pull of his brows together in confusion, plush lips parted with his tongue peeking through.

The reaction to seeing Taeyong again is immediate; Doyoung’s heart flies out of his chest to snuggle tight in Taeyong’s, his skin warming up and threatening to light aflame, that strong pressure behind his eyes that he wishes won’t break.

Light floods through him.

Taeyong bolts upright, pillows falling off his sides as he does. His blonde hair is up in all-angles and the dark circles under his eyes has Doyoung worrying instantly. But he doesn’t move, feet painfully rooted to the ground, and it’s almost torturous to watch Taeyong do a double take–as if it’d be impossible for Doyoung to be standing here before him.

Doyoung’s mind stops.

Five years together and Taeyong still takes his breath away.

“Hi.”

That seems to solidify the fact that he actually _is_ here, making Taeyong rush up to his knees, head shaking in disbelief, “What–what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Doyoung answers honestly. Taeyong makes a soft noise, “I’ve really–really missed you. A lot.”

“You–”

“And I know you have a busy schedule,” Doyoung rushes to say. All at once, his body starts to work again. He scurries over to the side of the bed, heart leaping into Taeyong’s open arms. He tucks his face into Taeyong’s shoulder, shivering at the smell he can’t live without, “But I missed you. I missed you so much, I just wanted to see you. I couldn’t–I didn’t want to stay away from you any longer.”

“You’re here,” Taeyong whispers. His breath tickles Doyoung’s neck, “You’re here.”

Doyoung laughs, arms tightening around Taeyong’s narrow frame. He hates how it’s clearly thinner than when he last sent Taeyong off about a week ago, but he settles on saying nothing. They’ll have a good breakfast in the morning tomorrow to make up for it, maybe some pancakes with bacon and eggs the could order off room service.

He pulls away to look at Taeyong proper, taking in glazed eyes and parted lips. He cups Taeyong’s cheeks, brushing at the highs of it with his thumbs.

Taeyong leans into Doyoung’s touch, covering Doyoung’s hand with his own, “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you.”

Doyoung presses a light kiss to Taeyong’s lips, smiles when the older boy chases for more. He awards another kiss, “I didn’t think you’d be surprised I’d be here.”

Taeyong pulls Doyoung up onto the bed with him in place of answering, locking their lips together again. He winds his arms around Doyoung’s neck and sinks in, melting into Doyoung and pushing him down until he’s on his back, Taeyong draped over him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Doyoung lets his hands trail down, feeling Taeyong under his palms, soft cotton the thinnest barrier from touching him bare. He sighs, pleased at the litter of kisses Taeyong leaves against his neck, “I’ve visited you before.”

“Mm,” Taeyong says, noncommittally. He props himself up, running a hand through Doyoung’s bright pink hair, “Wow.”

Doyoung winces.

“And this is…?”

“The kids did it,” Doyoung groans.

He explains how Minhee and Minjae wanted to play with some of Hyesung’s red hair-dye they’d found in her room and he was the unwilling guinea pig of their evening entertainment. The red’s faded out into a lighter pink now after a couple of washes since Christmas Eve, but it still has peoples’ heads turning.

He bites on his lip, watches Taeyong fiddle with his hair, studying it closely. Doyoung swallows, “You think it’s bad, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” Taeyong says. He cards his fingers through the fluff of cotton candy pink, dips low to kiss Doyoung again, “I think it makes you look cute.” He twiddles with Doyoung’s hair, nails scraping Doyoung’s scalp so gently in a way that forces shivers down Doyoung’s spine, “It makes you look young.”

Doyoung affronts, “You’re only a year older than I am.”

“Have you looked in the mirror?” Taeyong snorts, fingers trailing down Doyoung’s cheek, caressing his freckles with the tip of his forefinger, “I look five years younger, compared to you.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, leans back against the pillow, “Can’t believe I hauled ass over here just to get insulted by my boyfriend.”

“And for free, too,” Taeyong gushes. He props his chin against Doyoung’s chest, hand still tangled in Doyoung’s hair, “Tell me again–how much you missed me.”

“I missed you every day,” Doyoung murmurs, moving to brush his knuckles against Taeyong’s cheek. It’s almost a wonder, how enamored he is by Taeyong, without a doubt absolutely in love. Taeyong grins at the confession, “And I missed everything about you. How you kick me in the middle of the night and how you insist on kissing me whenever I try to brush my teeth.”

“I can’t help it,” Taeyong shrugs. He kisses Doyoung, whispers, “You just look so cute in the mornings.”

Doyoung hums dismissively. He rolls them over to their sides, sidling up to Taeyong and locking their legs together in a mess of limbs. Taeyong kisses him lazily, hands leaving Doyoung’s hair and settling lightly against Doyoung’s shoulders. With every kiss, he inches closer, his hair rustling against the bed. Against his thigh, Doyoung knows what Taeyong seeks for now after a week apart, and he’s more than willing to obliged.

But first.

“Were you really surprised?” Doyoung asks, already thumbing the edge of Taeyong’s shorts.

Taeyong makes a noise but doesn’t answer. His hips cant up towards Doyoung’s, searching. He breathes against Doyoung’s lips, barely giving either of them a second apart before pulling Doyoung down for sweet kiss.

“Were you?” Doyoung asks, tugging on Taeyong’s shorts and revealing his pale hips. He looks away let he starts to drool, “Were you surprised that I came by?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Taeyong whispers, though Doyoung isn’t entirely sure it’s an answer to his question.

“Why?”

Taeyong makes a frustrated whine at the question, wiggling to get Doyoung’s hand on him. In retaliation, Doyoung merely tugs Taeyong’s shorts down mid-way his thigh, then leaving feather-light touches along the expanse of smooth skin. Taeyong exhales sharply, grip tightening as Doyoung teases him the way he knows Taeyong to love.

“Yong.”

Taeyong’s hides his face away. He pushes himself flush to Doyoung now, shifting to have Doyoung’s hand against him, jerking forward on his own. He gasps at the touch, at his own doing, legs winding around Doyoung’s thigh.

“I was–surprised, yes,” Taeyong says, lips wet against Doyoung’s throat. He rolls his hips forward again, whining when Doyoung tries to move away, “What are you–”

“But I’ve visited you before.”

“I know, but–” Taeyong grabs onto Doyoung’s wrist, not caring for façades. He thrusts into Doyoung’s hand, jaw going slack against the pillow, “Just please–”

Doyoung holds Taeyong’s hips steady with his free hand, refusing all advances without getting an answer, “But what?”

“We’ve been together five years,” Taeyong mutters. He slows in his movements, lips moving ticklishly against the base of Doyoung’s neck, “I thought we’d be–past this.”

Doyoung squeezes as an award for the answer, making Taeyong jerk forward, gasping loudly. His hips start to move again, grip tight on Doyoung’s wrist to have it there against him.

Doyoung kisses Taeyong’s forehead, unbelieving of the words he’s hearing.

“You think there’ll be a point in my life when we’re apart that I don’t miss you enough to surprise you? Or fly to wherever you are because I miss you?”

Taeyong’s eyes flutter open, watching Doyoung watch him. He blinks, as if suddenly hearing his own thoughts, processing it and realizing just–how ridiculous it sounds.

“I love you,” Doyoung whispers. He pushes Taeyong over on his back, pulling Taeyong’s shorts off in one swift motion. Taeyong squeaks, knees flying up on reflex, but they fall apart when Doyoung touches him again, “I love you.”

“You love me,” Taeyong echoes. As often as he needs to hear it, Doyoung will tell him. His brows pull together when Doyoung crawls away to leave kisses on the side of his knee, moving up dangerously to his inner thigh, “You–love me.”

“I do,” Doyoung whispers. He kisses Taeyong’s thigh, careful not to leave any marks, “And do you? Love me?”

Taeyong curls his fingers into the sheets, “ _Yes_ , yes, Doyoung–I love you.”

Doyoung pulls on the hem of Taeyong’s shirt, pulls it low,

then stops.

Taeyong lifts his head off the pillow, “Hello?”

Doyoung grins, “Hi.”

Taeyong blinks. He frowns, placing his heel against Doyoung’s shoulder, “What are you playing here, seriously.”

“Nothing,” Doyoung says. He lies back over Taeyong, any inclination he so previously had disappearing in a flash, “I just wanted to take my time. Made sure I appreciated our time enough.”

“I don’t _feel_ very appreciated,” Taeyong deadpans. He kisses Doyoung anyway, too riled up to do anything about it, “What game are you playing?”

“There’s no game, honey.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes, “ _Honey_ , really?”

“What can I say?” Doyoung settles comfortably between Taeyong’s legs, grinning when Taeyong hooks his ankles over the small of his back, “I really did miss you.”

“And am I being punished for it?” Taeyong kisses Doyoung slowly, licking Doyoung’s upper lip sweetly, “Leaving me hanging like this?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Kim Doyoung–”

“I love you,” Doyoung sighs. He nuzzles Taeyong’s cheek, breathing him in, “In all my years, I’ve never missed someone like I did you–and I want you to know that, just how much I did. And how much I love you–how much I’ll love you.”

Taeyong deflates, “I love you too, you sap.” He grabs Doyoung by the face, bringing their lips together, “How long will you get to be here?”

“Til’ the second,” Doyoung nods at Taeyong’s immediate frown, “Some of us have desk jobs we’ve to get back to.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, hands still trailing over Doyoung’s arms, “As if Youngho wouldn’t let you take a couple more days off.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Not even if I asked him?”

Doyoung raises a brow, “That’s wouldn’t be fair.”

Taeyong sighs, already pouting. He doesn’t even bother fixing up a pretense, yanking Doyoung’s shirt up and over his head. He balls it up and tosses it aside, hands roaming free now, “Stay.” Doyoung wants to say that he can’t, that his tickets are already booked, but Taeyong is kissing him, saying against his lips, “At least until the fifth. We can fly home together.”

“Taeyong–”

“Stay?” Taeyong murmurs, rolling Doyoung over now. He straddles Doyoung’s torso, making a show and pulling his shirt off too, revealing himself inch by inch, “I’ve missed you too.”

Doyoung would never say no, wouldn’t ever want to say no. He watches Taeyong’s expression twist into an evil grin when his surrender is made clear, “What would I do without you?”

“I suppose your right hand is sufficient.”

“My _right–_ ”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong presses his forehead to Doyoung’s, blinking slowly. He thinks, seriously now, that same profound look that crosses his features whenever he’s busy in the recording studio. Softly, “I don’t know what I would do without you. I don’t know.”

Doyoung lips part.

Taeyong kisses them, “But I don’t ever want to find out.”

Doyoung smiles, “Neither would I.”

Across a thousand cities, uncrossed oceans, acres of green, Doyoung would go. Where Taeyong goes, he will go too, because there wouldn’t be a day lived he wouldn’t think of Taeyong and there wouldn’t be a day he wouldn’t want to. In this life and to wherever they may go next, Doyoung will go.

And he knows, with a steady beat in his chest and a warm curl to the tip of his toes, that where he goes, Taeyong will go too.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really sorry for the lack of quality but i wanted to write something just about them reuniting and do young's lovely pink hair ;;
> 
> but thank you all for reading! i just really wanted to grit out another dotae before the year ended since i've been so inactive due to my other works ;–; here's to hoping i'll be able to plan my time well in 2020 ;; 
> 
> see you on the flipside!
> 
> x
> 
> [ryan](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs)


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